Chapter 8

8

The train didn't come for a week. The Monday train was late, and no amount of nagging at the train station had changed a thing.

Maeve knew this to be true because she'd witnessed a fair amount of that nagging by Oscar when she walked around Alton with a fussy, teething Lydia.

By Wednesday, Jake had taken to pacing and muttering. Ginny had begun hiding in her room, only coming out for mealtimes, and twice she asked for a plate to be brought up to her. Though the hotel didn't offer such a thing as room service, they let Beth carry a meal upstairs as long as she brought the dishes back to the dining room promptly.

With Ginny hiding, Jake pacing, Oscar nagging, and Beth serving meals, Maeve had to admit this job had been no random bit of kindness. They really needed her, and she was earning her keep and every penny of the wages they'd offered even though she'd refused to accept. If they offered again, she might just change her answer.

Maeve felt the tension. Everybody was afraid that the Pinkertons or a crooked lawman or some bounty hunter or Rutledge himself might turn up at any moment.

Maeve and Ginny slept in the same room, often with the twins tucked in bed with them. Sometimes the little tykes wanted their ma or pa and kicked up such a fuss they'd disturb Beth or Jake through the thin walls of the hotel room. When they did so, Beth or Jake would hurry over and fetch them.

Maeve listened for the train. She'd never been on one before, so she was looking forward to it. Despite the fear that Rutledge or his minions would turn up to try to drag Ginny away before she could have her day in court, the advantage to the wait was that Jake and Beth were sending telegraphs.

Kat and Sebastian Jones were coming to the trial from Cheyenne.

Of course, Jake wasn't telling any of them just where they were going. But he had to tell Sebastian and Kat, so the secret was only as good as the honor of the telegraph operator. The one here in Alton, and the one in Cheyenne where Kat and Seb lived.

There was a bench just outside the hotel. During the daylight hours, Dakota, Oscar, and Jake stood watch over everyone who came and went in town. Whichever one of them wasn't out front was out back. The third man got a break.

The fear that someone might turn up with plans to kidnap Ginny and haul her away to Chicago and throw her back in the asylum was so real it almost hummed between all of them. Beth, Ginny, and Maeve kept busy wrangling children, although sometimes one of the men would bounce a child on his knee while he sat outside. The two older children especially liked a chance to run and play.

It was early in the morning on their tenth day in Alton when the train whistle finally blasted. Maeve about jumped out of her skin.

From the second the whistle blew, Dakota was moving. He didn't have much, and what little he had, he packed up every morning. Now he took his bedroll and satchel to the station and left them there, turning back to fetch his horse.

He jogged down the train platform just as everyone else was coming out of the hotel. The train still hadn't pulled in, yet they were all eager to leave Alton behind them.

The train pulled to a stop with a loud whistle and squealing brakes. Steam blasted out of the engine as the clacking wheels rolled to a stop and passengers began disembarking.

Dakota strode out of the livery with his horse. He watched the family climb aboard, then headed for the stockcar. A conductor rolled the doors open, and with a grating rasp of metal on metal, the station agent shoved a ramp up to the door. His horse, a well-trained critter not bothered by the racket or the hollow echo of his hooves on the wooden ramp, was easily loaded.

Dakota was the last to get on. It was nicer than the last train Dakota had ridden, which was the first year the train made the trip to Utah. He'd spent the winter in Oregon after his wagon train had arrived. Then he'd headed out early enough in the spring to reach Independence before it was time to roll out.

It was a strange thing, crossing the whole country in just a few days by locomotive going east, only to take five months to go back west on a wagon train. The railroad had come close to ending wagon-train travel. A few still crossed the country that way, but it was a dying business. There were more wagon masters and trail guides than there were available jobs. Dakota had seen that coming, and he had quit his wagon-master career the same year Jake did. Both of them had plans to homestead near each other, and Jake had already claimed a piece of land and built himself a cabin on it.

Then Jake had met Beth and turned off from the wagon train in Idaho. He'd told Dakota to go change the claim to his own name and live in the cabin. It'd taken a year, but Dakota found homesteading didn't suit him. He'd decided to find his old friend and turn to taming wild horses. But after he'd headed out to find Jake, he'd run into trouble and found himself locked in a feud with the Darnells.

Mulling over the mess he was in, he stepped into the rearmost passenger car, where he'd seen Jake's family enter. He found them all settled in their seats for the trip ahead. There was one seat left empty, all the way in the back, with one other occupant right next to it.

Maeve.

Well, two occupants, for she had Jacob Jr. in her arms. Beside her waited the only empty seat in the passenger car.

His stomach twisted when he thought of how pretty she was. She had on her green dress again today, and it was hard for him to look away.

She wasn't having any trouble, though. She had her gaze fixed on her little toddler friend. It was as if he were invisible.

Dakota tossed his satchel and bedroll on the floor and sat down. He forced himself to remember the sting on his cheek after she'd slapped him, and the sting on his other cheek from when a bullet had grazed him. The two stings ought to be more than enough to keep his feelings in check.

Jake needed help, and Dakota was happy to stand beside his friend. Add to that, getting out of Idaho for a while was an idea with merit. But he sure wished Maeve wasn't coming along.

Dakota scanned the other passengers with a knowing eye. None of them seemed to pay the least bit of attention to the riders who sat in the back. There were at least three dozen people packed onto the train besides Jake's family. Dakota couldn't judge much from staring at their backs. He readied himself for trouble, just like every minute of every day, and turned to see Maeve glaring at him.

And from her expression, and the fire shining out of her blue eyes, she looked as though a two-hundred-pound, stinking polecat had taken the seat beside her.

The train whistle blasted, and with a jerk of iron and the chuffing of the engine, the train slowly began its journey east.

Dakota watched the little town of Alton slide away until they'd left it behind. The rolling hills of Idaho now filled the car windows. Green and lush, they rushed along through the southern part of the Snake River Valley. Some said it was as rich and fertile of soil as could be found anywhere in America.

To give himself something to do, Dakota plucked little Jacob out of Maeve's hands and hoisted the little guy up until his head dangled over his own. A deep chuckle rolled out of the tyke, and out of the corner of his eye, Dakota saw that Maeve was smiling. He'd gotten that grumpy look off her face, at least for the moment.

"Hey, Junie. I think I'll call you Junie for Junior instead of Jacob. That's an old man's name."

Jacob's chuckles turned to squeals.

Just ahead of him, Jake sat beside Beth, holding a sleeping Lydia. Jake twisted to look over his shoulder and growled, "We're not calling my son ‘Junie.' Stop it before it sticks somehow."

Dakota grinned and hoisted the little guy again. "Um, how about Chip then?"

"No, that sounds like a broken coffee cup."

"Little Jake." He lifted the boy up high, then lowered him, getting a laugh each time. He glanced at Jake and saw amusement on his face, though it was slight. Jake had been wound up tight for days. Dakota kept playing with the little one just to give the family something to think about besides the fight they were taking on. "You can be Big Jake. Or Young Jake and Old Jake? That sounds good to me—Old Jake it is."

Beth bumped Jake with her shoulder. "Old Jake? Does that suit you?"

"No."

"How about Jay, or maybe JJ?" Maeve's voice was light, almost musical. She'd relaxed a bit. "I think I'll start calling him JJ. That sounds like him."

"We call him Jacob so he's got a different name than me."

"But you got the nickname. A child needs a nickname. Good thing old Uncle Dakota stopped by or you'd've hung an old man's name on him from birth. So JJ, Lyd?" Dakota nodded at Lydia.

"Not Lyd, for heaven's sake." Beth rolled her eyes.

"And..." Dakota glanced at the back seat across the aisle from him, where Oscar and Ginny had Marie. "Mare? Nope, sounds like you think your child is a girl horse. Mary? Is Mary a nickname for Marie?" Dakota asked Jacob, who giggled.

"How about ReeRee? JJ, ReeRee, and Lyd."

Beth said, "Call them whatever you want. We'll just go back home after all this and call them by their real names, and you'll be remembered as that odd, eccentric old Uncle Dakota who calls them by weird nicknames."

"I can live with that." Dakota lifted JJ up high and down low, enjoying the feeling of having a baby in his hands. He'd always liked kids.

Marie, calmer than her twin, Jacob, but an active little thing just the same, sat on Ginny's lap and looked up at Oscar. She chattered so fast that Dakota couldn't understand a bit of it.

Ginny was a married woman, and there was nothing improper between her and Oscar, but Dakota could see that Oscar was in love with her. To Dakota it appeared it wasn't really romantic love. It was more like a devotion on a plane far higher than romance.

Oscar had worked in the stables on the Rutledge estate in Chicago, and he treated Ginny like the fine lady she'd been back then. It wasn't obvious, and Ginny wouldn't put up with him acting as a servant, but it was there. On Ginny's part, she treated Oscar like a true and loyal friend.

Dakota didn't see how there could ever be more between them than that. At least not as long as Thaddeus Rutledge was alive. But regardless of their relationship, those two were like grandparents to Beth and Jake's children.

As Dakota played with JJ, he glanced sideways at Maeve. "This one reminds me of my little brothers," he said.

"All of them? You said there were five of you."

Dakota shrugged and stood JJ on his knees. The little boy bounced and started saying "J-J-J-J-J-J" while Dakota held tight his chubby fingers.

Beth and Jake were distracted by Lydia's waking up, howling. Dakota hoped they didn't get tossed off the train for being annoying.

Marie was keeping Oscar and Ginny busy. In the crowded car, sitting next to Maeve, even with a bouncing toddler, Dakota found himself alone with Maeve. He'd somehow managed to avoid her all week.

"JJ reminds me most of the youngest. I helped tend them all. Ma wasn't a real hardy woman. Having babies took a lot out of her."

"My ma was always out of bed on the same day a baby came." Maeve frowned a little as she spoke of her mother.

Dakota was quick to turn her attention away from her ma. "It's different for everyone, I guess. When Ma died, Grandma, my pa's mother, stayed with us awhile. Then Grandma found a neighbor to be a wet nurse for Jeffrey. And because there wasn't room enough, Grandma took the baby, little Jeffie, who slept at her cabin at night. Her and Grandpa came over every day. Grandpa worked with Pa a lot. They shared farming equipment. Once Jeffie was sleeping through the night, Grandma started leaving him. They had a small one-room cabin, and there was no room for him. Besides, Pa wanted him to know where his home was. By then Grandma was feeling her age. She died when Jeffie was two. I was twelve at the time. We all spent a lot of time doing chores, but caring for those little ones fell heavily on me. Jeffie was just a little younger than JJ here. Johnny was five. The next two were older and helped out. I ended up being their teacher, too."

He clamped his mouth shut and listened to the rushing wind outside the passenger car. The clacking of the churning wheels. The rest of the railroad car was quiet. Lydia was busy drinking from a bottle of milk Beth had brought along, and Marie was cuddled up against Ginny, listening to her grandma read.

Dakota looked at Maeve. "Sorry, I got to blathering away. Never did much talking to a woman, not ever in my life. Guess I don't know what I'm doing." And he clamped his mouth shut again, harder this time. Because he still didn't know what he was doing.

Maeve said hesitantly, "I've worked alongside Ma all my life. And now she sends me off on a trip so she can marry another man than my da." Maeve gave her head a violent shake, then dug in the satchel she had at her feet. She pulled out a book and waved it in front of JJ. "Would you like me to read you a story?"

Dakota had never seen a book with pictures. The cover had a drawing of three bears on it. They were standing in a circle and holding hands—in a way no bears would ever act. Fairy Tales was printed with black letters on the yellow cover.

JJ might be a little whirlwind, but it seemed he liked books. He dove at Maeve. Dakota helped move him onto her lap. As he got the boy settled, he brushed against her arm and her side and her hand. He sure didn't mean to. Then he got a look of annoyance from Maeve before she opened the book to read in her Irish lilt.

Dakota leaned his head back against the wall, gazing across Maeve, JJ, and the book at the scenery rushing by, and enjoyed every word of the fairy tale. The land Dakota had passed through with his wagon train was now sprouting with homesteaders. He'd heard several small towns had sprung up along the railroad line. Every fifteen miles or so, there'd be a town where the train could stop to refill its tanker car with water. When there was no town, a lone water tower stood, a windmill beside it, ready for the train to draw from.

The tension they'd all been living with eased a bit. The steady chug of the train's engine, the clickety-clack of the iron wheels, and the wind whistling past the windows all had a soothing effect. Of course, the tension didn't fully disappear, and wouldn't until the situation with Ginny was resolved.

But they'd gotten out of Alton without anyone bothering Ginny. For now, at least, they were free.

Which gave Dakota too much time to think.

As he stared out the window, he thought of the fresh grave on his land, and it made his heart ache. He'd decided to get far away from there, sell his horses, and maybe wan der a bit. It seemed wrong to stop being on full alert, but Jake was a tough man. Oscar too.

Dakota leaned forward and whispered, "I'm going to try and sleep awhile. Wake me at any sign of trouble."

Jake, looking back over his shoulder, nodded. Yet the quietly spoken words weren't so quiet they didn't earn Oscar's notice. Oscar nodded as well. Dakota knew Oscar was thinking any trouble would be aimed at Ginny. But Jake knew there could be something more and aimed straight at Dakota.

Even with the disturbing presence of Maeve O'Toole, Dakota let the chugging of the engine and the clacking of the wheels lull him to sleep.